"Not a word," broke in Courtney. "Why, she was just like a kid, laughing and singing and begging me to tell her stories about the war, and life in New York, and all that sort of thing. She used to read to me, bless her heart,--read by the hour while I smoked,--or went to sleep. If she was in love with anybody she certainly never took me into her confidence." "I--I guess there's nothing in that theory," said Amos Vick, shaking his head. "She didn't run away with anybody. That's out of the question. I'm working on the theory that she sort of went out of her head or something and wandered away. You read about cases like that in the papers. I forget what they call the disease, but there's--" "Aphasia," supplied Courtney absently. His gaze was fixed on a graceful, familiar figure down the street. Alix Crown had just dismounted from her horse in front of the library. She stood, straight and slim, on the sidewalk awaiting the approach of Editor Pollock, who was hurrying up from Assessor Jordan's house where he had been "interviewing" Annie. A warm glow shot through Courtney's veins. He had held that adorable, boyish figure tight in his arms! Nothing could rob him of that rapturous thought,--nothing could deprive him of those victorious moments. Amos Vick's voice recalled him. "I'll have to be on the move, Courtney. Here comes Bill Foss. He's been telephonin' to Litchtown, down the river. I do wish you'd go over and see Lucinda. She'll be mighty grateful to you." "Don't fail to call on me, Mr. Vick, if there's anything I can do," called out Courtney after the moving machine. He did not take his eyes from Alix until she disappeared through the library door. The horse, a very fine animal, was wet with sweat. He could see, even at that distance, the "lather" on her flanks. "Any news?" he inquired of Pollock, as that worthy came up panting. "Nope. Alix Crown is just back from Jim Bagley's. Some one said a hired man of his had seen a woman walking across the pasture yesterday just before dark--out near the old Windom place,--but it couldn't have been Rosie Vick because she had no way to get across the river except by the ferry, and she didn't come that way, Joe Burk swears. Alix saw this hired man and he says it was almost dark and he couldn't be sure whether it was a man or a woman." A greyish pallor spread over Courtney's face. He turned away abruptly and hurried down the street. He remembered the "skiff" that belonged to young Cale, salvaged some years before on the abatement of a February flood. On more than one occasion he had taken Rosabel out on the river in this clumsy old boat, twice at least to the base of Quill's Window where she had refused to land because of the dread she had for the gruesome place.